


Vorfreude (Part 2)

by pressedinthepages



Series: Vorfreude [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Plans For The Future, Relationship Discussions, Smut, jaskiers iconic butt bow, we should have kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Jaskier returns from another adventure, ready to settle at home and create a family.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Series: Vorfreude [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832521
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	Vorfreude (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Request: [I’ve just read your Jaskier x reader story “Vorfreude” and I’ve came to say that it is truly beautifully written, and it’s just a shame that it is hidden in the tags. Can I please request an oneshot where it’s set a few years after the wedding, and they’ve been on their adventures, etc and they finally decide that they want to start a family and they start by having sex. Lots of fluff/smut!! Please and thank you!] absolutely anon! this was super cute and lovey the first time around, so im happy to expand!!!

The flowers in your garden shine under the light of the evening sun, soft colors awash with life. You kneel among them, trimming and pruning stray leaves and weeds from where they pop up from the soil. You hum to yourself as you work, one of the songs that Jaskier wrote but never performs, only sung for you in the comfort of your home. 

You rise to your feet, brushing the dirt from your hands on your skirt as you cross to the well that sits at the side of your house. You lower the pail to the ground, quickly plunging your hands into the cool water. As you stand once more, water dripping down your arms as you dry them on your skirt as well, you hear heavy hoofbeats, accompanied by the sound of a lute. Your skirt falls from your hold as you turn with a gasp, watching as several people break through the treeline.

You run to your fence, fingers fumbling with the latch until it relents, opening the gate as you dash through. Jaskier sees you coming and swings his lute across his back, his smile wide as he moves to meet you. He leaves his companions trailing behind him, wind whipping through his chestnut locks as you race into each other’s arms. His arms catch you, wrapping around your waist as he sweeps you off the ground. He spins you, the both of you laughing at the joy of feeling one another once more.

Jaskier sets you back down and pulls you in close, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the longing in it, how he quietly moans into your mouth and discreetly digs his nails into your sides as he grips you tighter. You smile into him, running your hands up and down his arms, over his chest, feeling him under your fingers as you confirm that he is truly there in front of you. You hold his face in your hands as you pull back, seeing far beyond the endless pools of love in his eyes.

“Welcome home, dear,” you murmur, resting your foreheads together as his dimples deepen with his grin. You stay like this, breathing each other in, feeling the empty spot in your soul fill back up in Jaskier’s presence. You glance over to the treeline, spotting the silhouette of Geralt and Roach where they wait patiently for an invitation. You huff out a laugh, stepping back from Jaskier as you wave them over. 

Grabbing Jaskier’s hand and threading your fingers together, you walk leisurely to the entrance of your home. As you open the door Jaskier spins you back to him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “May I?”

You roll your eyes, “Love, you do this every time-ah!” Your voice carries into a fit of laughter as Jaskier swiftly bends down and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you once again over the threshold of the home. Your husband is ridiculous, sure, but it is with love that he carries out his rituals. Jaskier sets you down as you hear Geralt and Roach walk up the path to the backyard. 

You stoke the fire, throwing some leftover stew into the pot so that it can warm through. Geralt steps through the door, nudging it closed behind him. You see him glance around the room, surveying the little trinkets that adorn the walls and the books on the shelves. He steps towards them, undoing his sheathes and sliding them from his shoulders. 

“I see you’ve found some new titles, little magpie,” his voice is low, dark as he runs his thumb over the spines of the books. You smile, grabbing three bowls and filling them generously before placing them on the table. 

“Well, Geralt, you’re one to talk,” you tease, “seems you’ve picked up a new traveler.”

A young girl, maybe fourteen, stands huddled in the doorway. She looks exhausted, like she’s been through hell and sees that journey with every blink of her eyes. Her hair is the same hue as Geralt’s, ethereal silver waves framing her young face. Her eyes, though. They are striking, the light green so clear it felt as though you were peering into the waters of Brokilon. They stand out against her pale skin and hair, strength and pride shining through your humble home.

“Ah yes, darling, terribly sorry,” Jaskier stands from his place at the table, bending low in a gesture to the young woman, “ _ This  _ is Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, rightful heir to the throne of Cintra. And  _ this,  _ Princess, is the love of my life.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, moving to bend in a low curtsy. “Forgive me, Princess, I did not know of your identity.” You glare over at Jaskier, who has now settled back at the table and is shoveling his mouth full of stew. 

“Oh, please, do call me Ciri.” Her voice rings through your cottage, crisp with a life in court, but sweet around the edges of the words. You rise up, extending your hand to invite her to the table. She moves further in, looking over at Geralt before sitting across from Jaskier. Geralt comes over to the table too, one of your books tucked in his arm as he takes the spot next to her. You watch as she leans into his side, clearly relaxing just from his proximity. You catch Jaskier’s eye and give him a  _ look,  _ one that implies that he will be having a lot of explaining to do later.

Good thing he’s a bard.

* * *

“...So, now that she’s safe, Geralt is going to bring her up to Kaer Morhen. The other witchers are going to help for a while, probably Yennefer too.”

You’ve been pretty silent as Jaskier weaves the story, soaking in the tragic tale of the Last Rose of Cintra. Your home is far enough north that you still feel safe, but the threat of Nilfgaard looms overhead, an unavoidable disaster if ever there was one. 

“Ciri’s been with Geralt for a couple of months now, and by the  _ gods  _ they are picked from the same tree. She’s stubborn as a mule, vicious with the words that she cares to share, but she’s still a sweet young girl underneath. She’s been through so much, I feel like I’d be a right ass if I went through half of what she has…” Jaskier sits next to you on the bed, taking your hand in his as he finally falls silent. Your heart breaks for the princess, just imagining her curled up on your extra bed in the attic, Geralt meditating at her feet. 

“You know what this means though?” Jaskier squeezes your hand. You hum, looking over at him as you wait for an answer. “It  _ means,  _ darling, I’ll get to stay here,  _ with you…”  _ He nuzzles into your neck, pulling you tight against him. You can’t help the broad smile that pulls at your lips, thrilled with the prospect of having Jaskier here all the time. 

Well, maybe not  _ all  _ the time...even you have your limits with how much *restless bard energy* you can take. Hopefully one of the taverns will strike a deal with him to perform regularly...

His lips pull your attention back, kissing a line down your neck and over your shoulder as he slides the sleeve of your shirt down your arm. You undo the laces down the front, slipping the soft fabric off and letting it fall to the floor. Jaskier kisses hot, wet marks along your bare chest, his hands roving and squeezing and pulling little needy noises from the back of your throat. 

“Jaskier,” you breathe, “since you’re staying, we should-we should have our family.” Jaskier’s head is resting right over your stomach, and you feel the way that his lips turn up against your skin before rising. He sets his hands on either side of your face, his wedding ring cool on your cheek. 

“Are you sure, love? You think we’re ready for that?” You can hear the waver in his voice despite his obvious excitement as he searches your eyes, his thumb lightly running over your cheek. You set your hands on his waist, pulling him to straddle your legs. 

“I’m not sure that we’ll ever be  _ ready,  _ but I think that it would be silly to wait any longer.” You can’t deny your own nervousness as well, but it is far outweighed by the raging urge to keep Jaskier, his heart, his soul, all of him, and let him know the joy that a loving family can bring.

“Now, take this damn shirt off,” you murmur into his neck, nipping lightly at his collarbone where it peeks from under the chemise. Jaskier shakes with laughter, swiftly pulling the shirt over his head as you run your hands over his body. You’ve missed this, the feeling of his skin under your fingers. 

Every time that he comes back home, you have to relearn each other a bit. But it’s a good thing that you’ve always been a quick study.

Jaskier cups the back of your head as he leans down, taking your lips in his as he licks into your mouth with fervor. He hums as he moves against you, ever the performer with his still-clothed erection pressing into your hip. You reach around, finding the little bow on his trousers at the small of his back.

“These pants are ridiculous,” you huff, undoing the tie and pulling at the now loose garment. 

“Not ridiculous!” Jaskier gasps incredulously, “They are perfectly suited to traveling and they are comfortable, plus,” he waggles his eyebrows a bit as he stands from your grasp, “they keep me wrapped up like a little present, just for you.”

You shake your head with a smile, watching as he slides them down along with his underclothes. You’ve lain with him gods know how many times, but the sight of Jaskier bare, in all of his glory,  _ still  _ sends you reeling, your fingers itching to stroke, pull, pinch,  _ touch  _ your husband. 

Jaskier sways towards you, pulling you to stand with him as he undoes the buttons at the side of your skirt. Ever practical, he yanks both it and your underclothes down in one fluid motion. He leaves them pooled on the floor as he slowly climbs back up your form, kissing up your legs and lingering at your core before standing to his full height. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispers, holding you close, as if worried you’d disappear if he strayed too far from your reach. You kiss him then, your lips fitting together as if molded from the same block of clay. You fall backward onto the bed, pulling him so that he hovers over you. 

Jaskier’s fingers dance down your body, light touches leaving goosebumps in their wake as he finds your core. Your legs open as he runs his fingers along your slit, letting his thumb rub slow, gentle circles on the peak of your core as he slides a finger inside of you. You curl into his touch, desperate for anything he chooses to give you.

His lips move on your neck, worrying a mark into the same spot that he always chooses when he returns home. As he plunges another finger into your cunt you moan, almost a growl with impatience. Heat flushes through you relentlessly, waves breaking on the shore in a storm of pleasure. 

“Jaskier,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his hips. He is especially lean when he first returns to you, but you know that he will grow just a little bit softer with the comfort of your love. “Please, I need you,”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he teases, running the tip of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing inside of you. Your back arches into him, the fill of him so familiar yet unique, as if you were truly made for each other by the gods. 

Jaskier moves quickly, clearly just as pent up as you are as he thrusts into you. He hits deep with every snap of his hips, your impending pleasure building faster and faster under his touch. One of his hands grips your hip, digging into the soft flesh. His other finds your own hand, threading his fingers with yours as he fucks into you. Jaskier’s head still rests in the crook of your neck, the damp ends of his hair tickling you as he moves. 

“Gods, love,” he whispers between breaths, “I always try to remember just how good you feel, but it is never the same…”

His hips start to falter, quickening as you hook your ankles around his back and pull him closer. His thumb returns to your core, circling the peak of your pleasure as he finds the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Jaskier hits it again and  _ again and again,  _ sending you plummeting into the high of your orgasm. You cry out his name as your hips cant unconsciously with him, squeezing his hand in your own hard enough to turn your knuckles white. 

Jaskier loses himself then, his hips stuttering before stilling deep in your cunt, his cock throbbing with his release. You feel his spend swirl inside of you, hot and thick as it mingles with your own slick. 

You hold him close, keeping him where he lays atop of you. “Stay, for a moment,” you murmur, running your hands through his hair as he catches his breath. Jaskier does, staying inside of you as he shifts his weight, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him. He peppers kisses all over your face, drenching you in his adoration. 

“Maybe I can convince Geralt to build us a crib before he leaves,” he whispers, holding you lightly as he carefully slides himself out of your core. You whimper a bit at the emptiness, but a comfortable bliss envelops you as your breathing deepens. Your hand rests over Jaskier’s heart, the feeling of it beating under your fingertips and Jaskier humming another one of his private songs lulling you into the grasp of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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